Journey

Drowning

This is my first time writing in such a strange POV. It's like a 3rd person-Y/N so if you find mistakes or you don't like it, just do me a favor and ignore it. If you do like it, show some love ☺️
Enjoy ❤️❤️❤️
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Michael didn't mind touring, he's spent his entire life touring. Of course, he wasn't a big fan but the actual thought of touring didn't turn him off... until now. Sitting in a rolling leather chair that's a little too tight for comfort, he swallows his pride as he's told that this was happening.

Michael protested, his voice having a hint of a dark laugh, "I don't have to tour. The album did well. That should be enough for you. I don't understand why you guys love doing these things to me."

He was happy for once. He had gained a lot of weight, sitting pretty at 230 pounds, the most he's ever weighed. Ever. It wasn't exactly distasteful either, all he gained was a little ass, thick thighs, and love handles. He was still self-conscious about it but he knew who he was and he was comfortable. Plus he has a girlfriend who saved him. He loved her and didn't want to add to her stress by him being gone for six months to a year.

He didn't have a choice though. The executives had already made their decision, even picking out the dates and using the old pictures of him to create prototype advertisements. He knew he didn't have much power and he knew that they were growing more cautious of him.

Michael may look gullible but he wasn't stupid.

His fame was a phenomenon and his talents were as well. He knew that he needed to be careful around these men, looking at them sitting around this table they reminded him of government officials rather than music executives. Just soulless. They even spoke to him like he was still a child and not a man in his late 30s. All Michael was to them was pure cash. So he just nodded and asked politely in his melodic voice, "So when can I start?"

You spend the day in the office wondering if Michael was okay. You wanted to phone him on your lunch break but then your assistant came in waving her hands frantically about how one of the idols you were managing had shaved their head and refused to talk to their personal manager. By the time you had sat down at your desk, the emails and paperwork were piled too high for you to do anything else other than scream and get it to work.

Michael stayed on your mind as you worked. He was called to the main company early this morning, he didn't sound too happy about it but after being with him for 3 months you noticed that he's never that happy about being called to the company. From what you understood they weren't exactly the nicest to him. You offered to accompany him but he brushed you off giving you his signature boyish smile with a promise that he would be fine. In his own words, "He was a big boy now."

A statement that made you laugh and pat his protruding stomach, "Yes you are baby." Laughing harder when he covered his stomach and blushed before scurrying out the door like a shy mouse.

You smile down at the paperwork on your desk at the thought of this morning's interaction. Gods, he was cute. You loved that man with every fiber of your being. Which is why you couldn't shake the fact that something was wrong.

Looking back at it now you knew that something was wrong. Michael had come home around 7 almost shaking with anger and practically chewed his fingers off.

"They're making me go on tour! A TOUR! Baby, I can't do that. They didn't even ASK me. They TOLD me. Me. MICHAEL JACKSON! I made that company millions!" He paces, running his hands through his fairy mullet. Even when he's stressed he looks perfect. His upper arms were now swollen with extra meat, and his tummy straining in his button-up. His pale skin glowing and blemish-free, reminding you of the beautiful patches that graced his chest, arms, and thighs. Your man was a masterpiece.

"Michael," you call out softly, "You're okay, love. I'm sure this will be a good experience. Your fans must miss you."

He whines, flopping down next to you, cringing when the soft sofa gave a low moan. "But you-"

"I'll be fine, baby. I'll miss you but it isn't like we're living in the dinosaur ages. You can call me every day, no matter the time. I'll wait for you." Squeezing his thigh in reassurance watching him bite his lip before poking it out still not convinced. Michael knows that this tour was nothing but bad news just as you did.

*****Time Skip*****

A week later he's packing to go off for rehearsals in Florida for 4 months before the first leg of the tour starts in Russia. You sit on his bed, listing out the things he might need, "You have your toothpaste?"

"Um yes," he says looking through his Louis Vuitton carry-on.

"Toothbrush?"

"Yep."

"Your makeup?"

"Karen's gonna be there but uh yeah."

You keep your eyes from rolling before continuing down the list, "Deodorant? Rash creme?" You ask, knowing he would need it in Florida's humid weather, especially with how sensitive his skin is, and now that he's bigger the chafing can get a little bad.

He blushes at the last one grabbing it off the nightstand before turning to you sharply, "I got it, I promise. This isn't my first tour."

"I know, baby." You sigh looking at him with a little sadness in your heart, "I just want to be sure. Make sure you eat lots. You better not lose one pound, not after I fatten you up so well!"

He giggles hesitantly rubbing his stomach defensively, "I'm not fat."

"Okay, chubby." You laugh leaning forward to pat the hand that's still rubbing his stomach.

He pulls you off the bed, kissing you deeply. Your body relaxes naturally at the taste of him, the kiss speaking enviable longing. You pull back first, his lips chasing yours before whimpering then taking in a sharp inhale at the complete loss of you. A sequence of sounds that just proves that the lord was too cruel making Michael. Trying to refill your lungs with the air you occupy yourself by placing butterfly kisses all over his face.

"Have a safe trip baby. Don't forget to call me when you land." He nods, stealing another kiss before you both walk down the stairs. His manager and personal assistant are already rushing around you, grabbing his things. They rush him to the car, complaining about how much time he's used up with you. The last thing you hear before he shuts the car door is his voice yelling out, "I LOVE YOU!"